Contract Killer
by Moon Agent
Summary: Meet the nameless contract killer. She's getting out of the game to become normal, but it's not that easy. It couldn't be, and to make it all harder, love just had to come and throw a wrench in her plans. All human.
1. Killer for Hire

Take no prisoners.

Kill all your associates.

Leave no survivors.

All the old sayings ran through my head. I could have never gotten into this, but I did. And now I'm paying for the ultimate mistake.

What is it? I made myself a trained killer. Well technically my father did, but I let him and there is no time for technicalities in contract killing. Nor is their tolerance or acceptance.

How many people have I killed? 457. Not counting the unborn and half-deads I put out of their misery.

The life of a killer is lonely. So? I'm setting up a new identity. I'm getting out of the game. It's never easy to get out, and it's a scarring process. The whole thing is actually.

I already have four off shore bank accounts, a small house in Virginia, and enough money to last me until I die.

What I don't like about it? I don't like those stupid police men underestimating me; and the other officials, too. They never guess me, but they have no reason. I'm just a shadow, and I leave no trace.

I also don't like being called cold-blooded and seeing the evil innocence I harbor deep within.

I'm only seventeen. I have wide blue eyes, and a pretty small face. My skin is fair and my hair is light blonde as I'm often in the sun.

What do I like about my job? Working my way into people's lives, disguising myself, and traveling all over this Earth.

My personal favorite place on this Earth that I've been? Mine would have to be Amsterdam, such beautiful city so close to a killing facility. And Antarctica was nice. Cold, though.

My favorite moments? Oh definitely the merciful pleading. All the: "Why are you doing this? You won't get away with this. Who made you do this? We can get you help." Because no one but myself can help me and I always get away with it.

I sat in a sterile room, all white. There was a silver desk in front of me and I sat in front of it.

"Stella, please let in the next client." I stood up and smoothed out my black skirt. My hair was in a knot on my head. I was wearing a grey shirt with ruffles down the front and black heels.

Stella is my office assistant.

She doesn't know what goes on, she just schedules things for me and finances my affairs. She barely knows what I look like.

I tapped the intercom speaker on my phone and reopened the sleek MacBook Air.

I swiped my bangs to the right of my face and examined the pristine room.

"Stella, send in Mr. Waters." I said graciously. I let go of the button and went over to the door. I stood next to it, ready.

A young man, about 18 walked in. he had blonde hair and turquoise eyes. What a shame. I grabbed his arms and twisted them into a position where he couldn't move.

"Where's the money?" I said.

"I had it wired into your bank account Thursday." He ground out.

"And the other half?" I twisted a little harder.

"Next Thursday, when it's done." He said in pain.

"Good." I released him.

"So, you know your target right?" He asked.

"Yes."

"Well, he walks down this alley every day after he gets out of school at two: forty-five." He said pointing out an alley.

I think I'd get him elsewhere though. The past week this gang member had taken sketchy routes. Some make it so easy.

"How do you want it done?"

"Slowly. Preferably some fine knife work. That'll put me out of the question if they ever do look for me."

"That'll cost you another k." I know how to make a living.

"Fine, but only because I need it done so fast." He grumbled.

You can't turn on contract killers.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Why don't you do it yourself?"

"Can't get my hands into stuff like that. Politics when I'm older." He answered tersely.

I nodded and made a note on my Mac Book. The sleek silver screen's pixels all perfectly lit.

"Good day Mr. Waters. I'll be in touch."

"Yeah, yeah." He shook his head and left.

I really wouldn't mind contracting him. Holding a bond over his head. Some people just do not belong in society. I am indeed, so do not even attempt to tell me.

I checked my emails.

One call request, another call request, spam, call request, encrypted e-mail, call request, note from Stella, bank note from my low amount bank account, a college letter for a class reunion.

I graduated at the young age of twelve, my father started homeschooling me at the age of two and when he put me in real school I skipped grades continuously.

I never once made a friend. Guys really liked to talk to me; I didn't care much for them. They are nuisances and my main target demographic.

I made several calls before I sent Stella on her lunch break.

That's when I made my way out to the alleyway where "Brian Rogers" passes through.

I had changed into street clothes and put in green colored contacts. I wrapped my head in a scarf and styled the exposed hair so I would not look the same.

"Hello Brian." I spoke softly, stepping out of the shadows.

"…" a look of panic and terror crossed his face before I saw him relax and step closer.

"You know, not answering is rude." I had my eyes opened wide with innocence and tilted my head to the side.

"Hey Steffi." He grinned.

"I hope you realize my name is Charmina." I stepped closer, slowly moving my hand to my back pocket.

"You know, alleys are dangerous. I wouldn't want someone as pretty as you to get…hurt." He was smug.

In one swift motion I kicked his shoulder next to his neck and unwrapped the scarf.

I wrapped it around his neck. My knee was in his back and I was holding his arms. My face pressed up next to his.

"Listen here. I'm a killer for hire. You want to say that again?" I said innocent still.

"No." he choked out.

"Good, now. Back to business. If you give me six thousand, I'll kill your killer. I really don't want to hurt you. I hate your murderer though. I think, if we can put this past us, I could use you on my team." I lied. You know how serial killers have schizophrenia and paranoia and pathological lying skills? I have them all, under control.

I am in perfect mental condition.

"Okay, I'll scrounge it up for you." He said.

"Have it in cash, by Monday or I can't help you unless you sell me your soul." I said eerily and with an unbeatable speed I drew back into the shadows. I was already gone as he stood back up.

I was making my way to the dinner near sixty-Third Street.

I sat down and ordered a coffee.

I was waiting for my employer to meet me.

A tall man in a black trench coat took it off and came and sat at the table adjacent to my own. I inconspicuously flipped my hair over the left shoulder.

Nope. Not him. In fact, not even close.

The man that came next was a man taller than any basketball player I had been close to.

He had brown eyes, hair, skin and a black coat.

"Ahh. Yes. I have something for you." He said handing me a newspaper. I folded it and slipped it inside my coat.

"How's Linda?" I asked faking interest.

"She's good and the boy is coming along nicely."

"Oh it's a boy? That's great news! Congrats!" I said.

"Yes, isn't it wonderful? Life is such a beautiful thing."

"That's great, send my regards." I said giving him a hug before paying for my coffee and rushing out. I had to be careful with all the cameras around.

I jumped into my car of the day, a Nissan Rogue.

I zipped through the streets to get to my next victim. This time I would not hesitate to kill him. Or her in this case.

Review!


	2. Another one gone

Disclaimer: I do not own Maximum Ride.

My next victim, was a young girl; about my age. She was an ugly thing. If I tried to get into her heart I'd have to attack from behind.

I'm not one for attacking the brain, and I don't think that I could find hers, even with my skills.

She had red hair that was very flat and dull. She had small beady eyes and a nose job. I obviously couldn't just make it look like she tripped on her heels and the bone on her nose went into a brain with ease.

I could take her out easily, but it would probably get messy. I _could _fake a rape scene, but that takes time.

My client was several young men that were tired of her and just wanted her gone.

It made enough sense. You would agree if you had seen her, trust me. And yes, this is one of the only times you can trust me.

You might have heard of her, her name is Lissa.

She's from central Virginia? That's a nice place, and for those of you that reside there, I'm accepting any thank you's.

I drove to Richmond high school. I pulled into the parking lot and put on a hat. I slipped on some sunglasses.

I made sure I was wearing my heels and a skirt, I put on a white tank top and parked the car.

I strutted into the school and took a seat in the lobby of the school.

I waited patiently for Lissa.

"Miss, can I help you?" Asked the receptionist. She had been staring at the back of my head for about ten minutes.

"Oh no, I'm waiting for a Lissa Ritter." I said politely, in my screechy voice.

"Shouldn't you be in school?"

"Oh no ma'am, I'm 20. I'm picking up my sister, I got back from school in the North this morning." Lying on the spot is easy. And apparently the squeaky voice runs in the family.

"Oh, well you have another half hour. Would you just like to check her out?" She asked kindly.

"Oh no! That won't be necessary. She told me that she got out at three fifteen?" I didn't want to attract any unnecessary attention.

"Well this school lets out at three forty-five." She said apologetically.

"I'll wait. Do you have a book or something to read by chance?" I opened my eyes wide. It works well for some foreign reason taught to me by a Russian client for my time in Moscow.

"No, but you can go in the library. Take this sticker miss…?" She said writing on a yellow sticker.

"Trish." I said taking the sticker.

"It's down the hall to the left." She smiled.

"Thank you." I said already clicking down the hallway.

Several seniors passed me and did a double take at which I smirked. Boys can be so easy to fool.

"Hey," one ran up to me. "What are you doing this weekend baby?"

"Oh, I don't know. Not hanging out with you." I said in my faux voice.

"Eww, are you related to Lissa?" He said in disgust.

"Yeah. I am." I said snobbishly.

"Eww. Nevermind." He said.

"You know, I'll tell you some of her embarrassing stuff sometime." I dropped the voice and handed him a card. "Just don't rat me out to them." I said my eyes flashing furiously to some of the other guys.

I then continued down the hallway into the library. I sat down in a chair and picked up some teenage girl magazine. I skimmed through it till I reached the part about trending clothes and styles.

It was important to stay hot through the years and internet is not trustworthy. I looked at the clock. Almost three forty-five. This school sure let out late.

I put the magazine down.

I had been reading an _interesting _article about serial killers, how they think, and who they target. It wasn't very accurate and there are no 'symptoms' of the 'insanity' that people like I suffer from.

I got up and smoothed out the short skirt and made my way back to the office getting very little attention.

I went and sat down in the office. The receptionist was busy checking practice times to acknowledge I was back.

The bell rang and I stood up waiting for Lissa.

The receptionist went somewhere else probably to help a lady in her mid-forty's.

Lissa walked down the stair making a ruckus and nearly slipping in her heels.

"Lissa! Your father sent me." I waved her over.

"Who are you?" She said in disgust. I did a pretty good job imitating her voice.

My father would be happy.

"I'm here to pick you up. Your father sent me." I said.

"Is she like you sister or something?"

"Yeah right. She's probably dad's new girlfriend." She rolled her eyes and followed me outside. I led her to the car.

"He sent you in this?" She scoffed. "This must be YOUR car."

"Well, I hope you're ready to go for dinner." I said driving over near VCU. That's my best chance of getting gang work into the picture.

I drove into a conveniently located parking space.

"Okay, follow me." I screeched.

I led her down a dark alley and turned around.

"Are you doing okay?" I faked interest.

"Just fine." She sneered.

And I simply tripped her as she threw her nose up in the air and tried to saunter past me.

I pulled on some gloves. I pulled a dagger out of my bag and checked her pulse.

"What are you doing? Why do you have a knife?" Fear immediately entered her voice.

"Oh I don't know. Most people don't like you? You know that? And if I kill you here, I won't get caught. I never do." I dropped the voice and punched her nose so that it went into her brain. Her breathing stopped and her body was still on the ground. The perfect "dropped then died." Not "drop dead". That only works without contact.

Something tried to scamper out of the alley at the end and I simply flicked the knife over a them.

It penetrated with astounding accuracy.

Killed: 459.

I walked over and retrieved the knife. It had hit close to the heart.

"Oh now now now, that's painful. I'm sorry." I said stabbing the knife through the heart and then made a gang symbol cut. I never get caught.

Killed:458, it was only a put out of their misery. Those don't count.

Review, I have about three more chapters of killings before I can start taking Max out of the game.

Well. GO!


	3. Chapter 3

Your grieving process may begin now. I'll be back in June (I have stupid tests and a lot of homework.)

Yesterday was my birthday and… updates will be longer, and better. I need some time to freshen up, I guess.

Soory.


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